Not Lonely
by HedwigBlack
Summary: Lily's surrounded by family, and they all have families of their own. She should want that too right?


_For Quidditch League Round 11. The prompt is to write a story set in the year 2041 about a day someone is born. Chaser prompts: crimson, spitting, "I think I've discovered the secret of life- you just hang around until you get used to it." –Charles M. Schulz. Inspired by a little conversation between me and Kailey Hamilton. Hopefully this makes some sort of sense. _

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><p>Lily curls up on a couch in the waiting room, just one among a sea of crimson heads. It's not an unfamiliar scene for the St. Mungo's staff. Any sickness, injury, or birth is met with a room full of Weasleys and Potters. Today, it's Albus.<p>

Well, Albus' wife, really. Albus is merely waiting the birth of his first in the room while the rest of the family is banished to the waiting room. Quite frankly, Lily is sick of it already and it's only been a couple of hours, but she keeps that sentiment to herself.

In the meantime, she plays with the end of her braid whilst looking around at the rest of them. The few people in the room who are not her relatives seem overwhelmed by the party and she can't blame them. One woman is too preoccupied with going into a spitting rage of her husband's forms to care much, but Lily can only watch her for so long before she comes back to the familiar faces. There's James with his newest girlfriend looking a little too comfortable in the corner, and Victoire and Dominique both bouncing little blonde girls on their knees, and Molly with Teddy and their boy running about entertaining the adults by changing his hair on command. Lily's glad for them. Really, she is.

She just wishes they could be as happy with her choices. Wishes she could escape the constant questioning. _When will it be your turn, Lil?_ or _Don't you want a family of your own?_ and _You'll meet the right person someday._

She's sick of it. Sick of the pity in Grandma Weasley's eyes. Sick of having to explain herself. Sick of wondering if maybe there really is something not quite right here. Because she should want this. She should want her family waiting in anticipation for her own baby to arrive and be spoiled by aunts and uncles and cousins and whoever else. She should want to get excited over baby clothes and the idea of rocking her contribution to this family affair to sleep. Shouldn't she?

The couch shifts beneath her and Lily is startled out of her bitter musings. She turns and realizes that Aunt Hannah has come to sit beside her. The older woman settles back, threading her fingers through her graying hair and gives Lily a knowing look. Lily smiles weakly in response. Though Aunt Hannah isn't exactly family by blood, Lily has always called her godmother "aunt". It suits her somehow.

"Where's Uncle Neville?" Lily asks.

"He'll be along eventually," Hannah says. She pulls Lily into a one armed embrace. "He has one more class to teach, I think. I'm sure he won't be missed too much with all this family here. We were going to wait until later to stop by actually, but I had a feeling you might like some company."

Lily sighs. "I don't need company. I'm not lonely, if that's what you think."

"Oh, I know that, dear. But not everyone does. If I were you, I'd be sitting over here by myself too."

Lily hesitates, unsure of how to form a question she's secretly always wanted to ask. Perhaps it's not polite, or perhaps the answer isn't something Hannah wants to talk about. But she catches Teddy's eye from across the room where he's entertaining a few of the younger children with his own antics and before she can stop herself she blurts it out.

"Why didn't you have any children?"

Hannah smiles. "Neville and I decided we didn't want any."

"That's all?"

Hannah nods. "That's all. There's nothing wrong with it, Lily. We certainly disappointed a few people. Neville's grandmother wanted _so_ terribly to have great grandchildren before she died. It just wasn't something either of us wanted. Neville and I are content with each other, and we have godchildren like you to care for in our own way." She gives Lily's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Children just aren't for everyone."

Lily rests her head on Hannah's shoulder. "Tell that to everyone else."

Hannah waves that idea aside. "Don't worry about them. They've enough to occupy themselves with, don't you think? As long as you're happy."

"I am," Lily says decidedly. "I_ am_ happy. It just seemed…_wrong_ somehow."

"We all have a different idea of what it means to live with ourselves. There's no right way to do it either. We sort of figure it out as we go along. Babies cry about everything until they get used to life and learn to do things on their own. And then they grow up and that doesn't really change does it? Less crying perhaps, but we're still changing. Sometimes we get married and have children. Sometimes we don't. You're okay, Lil. I promise."

"Thanks, Aunt Hannah," Lily says. She closes her eyes against the brightness of the room, and lets the comfort of Hannah's words wash over her, grateful that the older woman had sat down when she did.

"This could take a while," Hannah observes. "How about we go for a walk? There ought to be somewhere in this place where we can find some tea."

"That sounds great," Lily says, relieved.

They get up and wave to a few relatives on their way out of the ward, leaving the noise behind them, and for once Lily doesn't feel guilty. Not anymore.


End file.
